


i don't wanna be your friend (i wanna kiss your lips)

by wardo_wedidit



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Kissing in the Rain, Oral Sex, Pining, Season/Series 06, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wardo_wedidit/pseuds/wardo_wedidit
Summary: "They’d been fun, the two of them. When Alexis was in an off-phase with Mutt, or with Ted, sometimes they would sleep together. They’d even continued when Stevie was with Jake, since that was never exclusive. But Alexis hadn’t come to her after she broke up with Ted this time, choosing instead any stranger she could find, and that had stung. They hadn’t kept it a secret, necessarily, because Alexis was open about most things and sexuality was one of them, but they also weren’t girlfriends. Just two people hooking up. And no one had asked.Stevie wanted more. She never asked for it."Or, Alexis contemplates a move to New York, and Stevie worries about being left behind. Post 6x12 "The Pitch."
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd/Alexis Rose
Comments: 13
Kudos: 161





	i don't wanna be your friend (i wanna kiss your lips)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [livelyvague](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelyvague/gifts).



> Happy birthday to the very funny, talented, and kind [Reed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelyvague/pseuds/livelyvague)! I'm sorry this isn't posted on the 27th, but I'm calling it close enough because I wanted you to have it for the whole day and I would have to post it late tomorrow, and didn't want you to think I forgot. I'd hoped to write you a social influencer AU at Kristen's suggestion, but kind of got overtaken by events. ANYWAY, I adore you and wish you a day full of the things and people you love, and am sending you all my best wishes for the coming year. Hope this makes you smile!
> 
> This was originally intended to just be a couple thousand words; I don't know why I went so hard on this. (Yes I do, it's the lesbianism.)
> 
> Title from girl in red's ["i wanna be your girlfriend"](https://open.spotify.com/track/3h3pOvw6hjOvZxRUseB7h9?si=MFikmA0NSHaQVfK7Y72dzA). Thank you to [Em](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingmywaydoll/) for the encouragement and the extremely specific opinions on New York neighborhoods.

The news that they aren’t moving to New York hits the motel like a lead balloon.

“I’m not quite sure where you got that idea, dear,” Stevie hears Mr. Rose tell Moira, who looks absolutely deflated. “We’re going to be managing the chains around here—in fact, life might get even busier than now…” and they both watch her coloring go a little gray.

“You could at least swing a move to Elmdale? As a compromise?” Stevie chimes in, and Mr. Rose shoots her a grateful look.

Moira looks slightly placated at the prospect. “Yes, well… I suppose they must have at least one fine dining establishment within the city perimeter…”

Alexis, on the other hand, seems undeterred.

“You talked to your dad, right?” Stevie asks her later in the afternoon, going for faux-casual. Alexis has flitted in to use the printer, and gun to her head, Stevie refuses to admit that she peeked at the header before she came in: a rental application for a place in Boerum Hill.

New York. The city name right there in big, bold, black and white script.

“Oh, yeah,” Alexis says, brushing her hair back over one shoulder as she flips the page in her magazine. “I know they’re not leaving. But it sounds like Interflix wants me and like? Ted’s gone. I’m going to try and like, spread my wings or whatever. Nothing’s left for me here.”

She flicks an eye at Stevie, as if daring her to say differently. But her tone is so easy, so Alexis, and Stevie doesn’t know how to break that cool. That easy confidence.

Stevie doesn’t know how she has that. It’s like magic to her.

“Well,” she says, turning her head. “Sounds like you’ll get it all back. Everything you wanted.”

Alexis doesn’t say anything. Stevie doesn’t look at her again, and eventually she leaves.

//

Stevie spends the rest of that night at home with a bottle of wine, trying not to think about Alexis. It’s become something of a habit of hers lately.

She’s still shitty at it.

They’d been fun, the two of them. When Alexis was in an off-phase with Mutt, or with Ted, sometimes they would sleep together. They’d even continued when Stevie was with Jake, since that was never exclusive. But Alexis hadn’t come to her after she broke up with Ted, choosing instead any stranger she could find, and that had stung. They hadn’t kept it a secret, necessarily, because Alexis was open about most things and sexuality was one of them, but they also weren’t girlfriends. Just two people hooking up. And no one had asked.

The Roses hadn’t been in Schitt’s Creek two weeks before Alexis had caught Stevie looking at her. (Stevie’s always wanted girls here and there, had a few when it worked out, though it’s not something she advertises about herself. The sex has always been amazing, and beyond that, she tries not to overthink it.) Instead of coyly pretending not to notice the way Stevie had expected, Alexis had winked at her and bit her lip in a way that made Stevie’s stomach flip over. It had taken maybe another week for Alexis to oh-so-casually mention a fling with Kesha, purposefully looking at Stevie as she did.

After that, it was easy. The first time was a tailgate party in which they had both gotten more than a little tipsy, Alexis threading their fingers together as they walked back to Stevie’s place, giggling every time she stumbled in her heels. Heated, desperate kisses when they finally fell into bed, Alexis’s hair falling out of her polished ponytail, the curls tumbling over her tan skin. Stevie’s fingers fumbling at the zipper of Alexis’s dress just to touch more of her, trying to memorize the taste of her lipstick, not caring if it went everywhere. Her soft moans and sighs, the way she shook when Stevie grazed over a nipple or pulled her hair a little, the way her mouth went slack. They fell asleep before anything happened, but Stevie remembers wanting to just— _consume_ her.

She’d felt it again when she woke in the morning, opening her eyes to Alexis’s outline practically glowing in the sunlight slanting through the curtains. She watched her breaths rise and fall so gently and marvelled at how peaceful she looked like this, how unlike herself. She’d leaned in and kissed her awake, felt her slowly waking up against her lips and melting into it, with a steadying hand behind Stevie’s head and the delicate breath she let out. Soon, Stevie was touching her, wet and slick inside, making her gasp and whine and beg. She can remember every single second of it, has played that first time back so much she sometimes worries the memory might wear out like an old cassette tape.

After, Alexis had flipped her over and smirked as she crawled down between her legs. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” she said, her voice slightly rough with sleep, and Stevie had cried out as soon as Alexis’s mouth was on her, tensed her thighs and shivered at the bite of Alexis’s nails biting into the curve of her ass.

With everyone else Stevie’s ever slept with, things got less electric over time. Even with Jake, who lasted longer than most guys, their sex had faded into a kind of boredom for Stevie. But that wasn’t the case with Alexis. Even years later, when Alexis knocked on her door out of the blue something inside her would jump with want, desperate for her touch and her mouth and god, her _smell_. It made her feel like an animal, sometimes. Made her wonder if something was wrong with her, the way she could want this _so much_ and care so little about it all with other people.

She missed it when it was gone. Not just the sex, but the meandering conversations in bed after. The times they got high and giggly. How they used to sit in bed half-naked and eat leftover pasta straight out of a pan because Alexis didn’t know where the plates were, and Stevie would rather avoid washing a dish anyway. People didn’t give Alexis enough credit—she was smart, funny, ambitious, and she didn’t take people’s shit. She didn’t take _Stevie’s_ shit, which was refreshing. When she tried to play things off, when she felt like Alexis’s questions were getting too close to home, Alexis would give her this look like she knew, and wasn’t fooled. She didn’t say anything, but then, there were a lot of things they didn’t say.

Stevie wanted more. She never asked for it.

Besides, it was easier to seal those thoughts up, and instead dissolve into Alexis’s touch every time she offered it.

If anything, the two of them had gotten more comfortable over time. More tender. Stevie remembers the last time they’d slept together too—it had been some random afternoon and they’d smoked, before Alexis got back together with Ted—it had been slow and syrupy, hazy and perfect. Stevie wonders if she somehow knew it was the last time, because ridiculously, it had felt like every touch had lit her up twice as much as usual. Afterwards she was shaking, trying to catch her breath, and Alexis had held her and shushed her until she came back to herself.

“I got you,” she had whispered, so quietly Stevie still wonders if it was real.

//

The next day is a rare stormy one in Schitt’s Creek. The skies are gray and rumbling, and it matches Stevie’s mood. Alexis is fluttering around the motel talking about paint colors and furniture styles for her new place, and Mr. Rose is pulling up listings for places in Elmdale that are move-in ready and meet Mrs. Rose’s standards—which is apparently more mutually exclusive that one might guess—and Stevie thinks if she has to listen to one more second of it she’s going to scream and scream and never stop.

That was the problem all along, Stevie thinks. She’s all sharp edges and feelings swallowed so deep that sometimes they feel like they might poison her alive, and Alexis… nothing sticks to her. Stevie was silly to think she could.

Patrick wanders in around lunch, looking overwhelmed. He crosses his arms and rests his elbows on the counter, shooting her concerned eyes and jerking his chin in her direction. “How are you doing with all of this?”

“Oh, great,” Stevie says sarcastically, smirking meanly. “I’ve never felt more valued, you know?”

She wants to say more, about how her brain is spinning out about being left behind and that she was stupid for feeling like she was apart of a family for once, but she bites her tongue instead.

No one knows about her and Alexis. Not for sure—well, unless Alexis had told Ted after they got back together, but what does it matter, he left too, he’s a world away. But sometimes Stevie wonders if Patrick suspects. From the way he looks at her kind of sideways, only when he thinks she won’t notice.

“What about you?” she asks, just to no longer be the focus of the conversation, squirming in her chair. “What are you and David doing?”

Patrick sighs. “I think he wanted to move at first, but we had a long talk last night, and. Well, we both decided that this is home for now, that we’re happy, and we want a future here.” He shrugs.

Stevie quirks her head in his direction. “Wow. And David went for that?”

He spreads his palms, body language relaxing. “Yeah,” he says softly, as if the words are delicate. Stevie wants to be mad at him for looking so quietly happy, so settled, but she can’t. She loves him too much. “I don’t know, I think it was just about… letting go of this idea of a life he always thought he would have? He said—he said he didn’t really think about it at first, that it was just instinct to reach for the life he’d always known, but that he knows there’s value in our lives here. Even if it is kind of scary, not knowing what to expect in this one. But that he loves me, and that we figure it out together.”

Stevie presses her lips together. “That was it? You just… talked about it and. Told him what you wanted? And he changed his mind.”

Patrick lets out a huff of laughter. “Yeah. We’re getting pretty good at it, actually.” God, if she didn’t know better, she would think he was blushing a little. “Plus, you know me. I think it’s worth asking for what you want.”

She narrows her eyes at him, because that felt pointed. There’s a beat of silence before she says, “Ugh, gross,” and Patrick breaks, laughing.

He leaves, but Stevie keeps thinking about it.

//

All she wants that night is a fucking grilled cheese from the cafe. She wants to call it in, pick it up, and go home and watch the idiots on _90 Day Fiancé_ until she can’t feel anything anymore.

Twyla sends her sympathetic eyes as she’s waiting to pay, and she wonders if she’s got something on her face that’s somehow broadcasting how pathetic she is. She hates it: she hates being seen and being pitied and she doesn’t care if it’s for this or for something else, but she wishes everyone would leave her alone. She has no idea what to do.

Finally, _finally_ it’s done, and she leaves her money on the counter with a not-quite slam, (but definitely more forcefully than necessary), and leaves before Twyla can say goodbye.

It’s pouring now, so she stands under the awning of the cafe too long fighting with her umbrella—which seems to have chosen this moment to break—cursing and feeling like this whole day, this whole town, is conspiring against her.

Eventually she gives up on it, stepping out into the downpour, and it hits her like a punch in the gut to see Alexis striding towards her. Knocks the breath right out of her.

She’s wearing a fringed kimono, shorts, and fucking _heels_ , and Stevie wants to scream at her for being inappropriately dressed for this weather. Her hair is in wet, dripping waves, which she shakes casually out of her face, like something out of a bathing suit photoshoot or a perfume commercial. Effortlessly beautiful, even in what feels like disaster.

But in the next moment it hits Stevie, the ridiculousness of the situation. That they are _not_ in a very expensive ad campaign, but in the middle of the road in Schitt’s Creek, in nothing but a common rainstorm.

And then she is screaming across the street.

“Alexis! What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

When she opened her mouth she didn’t know it would come out with that much venom, and Alexis looks taken aback for a second. Stevie doesn’t care, at least it gets her to speed up a little, doing a sort of half jog over.

“Um, what are _you_ doing, Stevie?” Alexis shouts back, loud over the dull roar of the thunder.

“You don’t even have a fucking umbrella! You’re soaked!” she yells as she sets down her takeout bag and her keys, suddenly so incredibly over and done with Alexis’s flightiness, her elusiveness, her carefree attitude.

“You are too!”

Stevie shakes her sad, crooked umbrella at her, spraying little droplets onto both of them. “Well, it’s broken!” she shouts, and god, if this isn’t a metaphor for who they both are.

“I’m sorry, what is your problem?” Alexis asks, crossing her arms, actually sounding agitated now, and Stevie honestly feels somewhat satisfied to have gotten something out of her like that. She knows that probably makes her a horrible person, but she doesn’t care. “Since when am I not allowed to go to the cafe?”

“It’s not fair!” Stevie says, utterly losing now. “Why do you get to just not care about things! Why is it that only the rest of us have to deal with fucking consequences? You get to break up with Ted and bounce back, you still get to go to New York, you get to fuck whoever you want and feel _fine_ about it—”

“Hey, _fuck_ you,” Alexis says, all quiet, potent rage, and Stevie’s never seen her like this. She almost jerks back in shock. Her voice is trembling when she speaks again. “Fuck you, Stevie Budd, you have no idea who or what I care about.”

She tries to move past her and into the cafe, but Stevie steps in front of her. “What about your family? What about your parents and your brother and the—the company you built here, and your friends? How are you just going to leave all that behind like it doesn’t matter?” Her voice is stripped, fried, so clearly emotional, and her throat is raw and she can feel tears welling behind her eyes from the force of it all.

Alexis’s lower lip wobbles and Stevie feels a rush, the same way she did when she used to fight with her family and knew she was winning. She knows she shouldn’t be doing this and yet she can’t stop herself. She’s held it in too long and now it’s spilling onto Alexis, who will have moved on in a week. It’s pointless, but it’s too late now. She hates it, feels like a romantic lead in one of those sappy movies David loves, but she’s not David and she can’t stand this vulnerability, this intensity.

“There’s nothing for me here!” Alexis exclaims, throwing her arms out, voice desperate. She looks like she’s breaking. “What am I supposed to do, Stevie? Tell me, I’m begging you.” She reaches up, swiping angrily at the tears running over. She takes a shaky breath, voice going quiet. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Stevie’s breath catches.

Alexis steps forward. The shift between them feels palpable—Stevie’s on the back foot now, caught off-guard, trying to keep her distance as Alexis comes closer into her space. “God, if I could care less, I would. About everything. It would make this all so much easier,” she says, shaking her head.

She reaches out, grabbing Stevie’s wrist. Stupidly, Stevie notes that it’s the hand she’s using to hold the wrecked umbrella, and the touch sears into her, feels like a burn after so long. Alexis inhales unsteadily. “Tell me—”

But Stevie is crushing into her, kissing her, and the force of it sends them both stumbling. The rain pounds into them, and Stevie tries to maintain her balance where she’s standing on her toes, but then Alexis has a firm hand on the small of her back. Her eyes are squeezed shut so tightly she can’t tell if it’s rain or tears running down her cheeks, but she doesn’t care. She’s missed this so much: the insistence of Alexis’s kiss, the soft floral scent of her shampoo, the fluttering in her stomach. Alexis lets out a soft, wanting noise, and Stevie has to will herself to pull away.

Alexis looks dazed when she does, murmuring a soft little _fuck_ that Stevie wants to keep forever, but wills herself to say the words.

“I care if you’re here,” she says slowly and clearly, trying not to let her voice wobble. “I’m—yours if you want me.”

Alexis shivers, and Stevie swears she feels it too. She looks small, scared, different than the Alexis that Stevie is used to, but brave too. “I want you,” she replies. “Stevie, you don’t—you don’t know how much I want you,” she breathes, nearly cutting herself off by leaning in to kiss her again, full of need.

Stevie lets herself sink into it for a minute, can’t resist, but then Alexis shivers against her again and suddenly she very deeply wants to be anywhere but here, pushes herself back. “Come on, we have to—we’ve gotta get out of here,” and Alexis is nodding, humming in agreement. Stevie grabs her keys and her probably lukewarm dinner, and together they sprint to her piece of shit car, climb in, close the doors. It’s silent but for the rain pounding on the windshield, at the change in volume shocks her.

Alexis is turned in her seat, looking at her with wide eyes. “Buckle your seatbelt,” Stevie says, because she knows Alexis well enough to know that she won’t otherwise. Her own hands are quivering as she gets the key into the ignition, engine sputtering to life.

“I didn’t think you wanted this anymore,” Alexis says softly, swallowing hard. “After Ted.”

Stevie wants to meet her eyes but can’t. It _hurts_ her how much she wants Alexis. “In what world?”

“I feel so much for you,” Alexis says, as if Stevie hadn’t spoken. “I’m sorry I ever let you think differently.”

Stevie feels herself freeze. “I’m sorry too,” she says, because she is. She’s sorry they couldn’t talk this out reasonably, sorry for her anger and her accusations, sorry for her silence and the way she kept it all inside.

Alexis smiles, slow and soft and beautiful. She reaches for Stevie’s free hand and twines their fingers together. They’re quiet the rest of the drive home.

The urgency returns when they’re stumbling through the door of Stevie’s apartment, long strands of wet hair getting in the way as they try to kiss each other, trying to hold each other’s faces. Stevie dumps her takeout bag on the kitchen counter without a second thought as Alexis tries to untangle her from her flannel, getting her hands under her shirt. In return, Stevie unbuttons Alexis’s shorts and pushes her towards the bed, removing her heels and throwing them vaguely towards the floor.

“Fuck, Stevie,” Alexis pants. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed this.” Her voice is all breathy, sexy, intimate in a way that’s so specific to this part of her. Quiet and careful and heavy with meaning.

“You have _no_ idea,” Stevie murmurs back, and they’re making out, bodies rolling together on the bed, clothes coming off, groans and gasps and pleas until they’re skin against skin. Stevie’s never felt more naked in her entire life.

“You mean so much to me,” she breathes as lowers herself down, kissing over Alexis’s ribs, her bellybutton, her hipbone. Gently biting there just to see if Alexis will buck against her like she remembers, which she does. “You were always so much more than—than what we were.”

“You too,” Alexis says, eyes closed tightly, head thrown back, biting her lip. Her hands are knotted in the sheets like she’s trying so hard to be patient, to keep herself from begging for more.

“Put your hands in my hair,” Stevie directs, and Alexis moans and listens, scrapes her nails against Stevie’s scalp in a way that makes Stevie go liquid, pliant.

“Can I?” she asks, breathing against Alexis’s thigh, heavy and wanting and frenzied with want.

Alexis nods frantically, like she can’t even form words, and Stevie kisses her cunt, going slow and soft until she relaxes into it, starts to let out desperate little breaths of _please_. She works her slowly, sucking and licking at her clit until she’s so wet for her, wet enough Stevie can slide two fingers inside just like that. Alexis gasps, begs, asks for more over and over, interspersed with _need you_ and _want you_ and _I’m yours_ , until she’s coming and all she can say is Stevie’s name, on repeat. For all the memories she replayed all this time, she’d forgotten how fucking gorgeous Alexis looks when she arches into her orgasm, cries out, lets herself feel it.

Stevie wants to lie there, her face resting on Alexis’s thigh like they used to, but Alexis is pulling her up with whimpers, kissing the taste of herself off of Stevie’s tongue. “God, I want you to come,” she says, voice high and on the edge of a whine. “I want to make you feel so good.”

“You always do,” Stevie admits, more earnest than she wanted to, and Alexis probably has more sophisticated plans but Stevie’s too turned on, she’s already been rolling her hips into Alexis’s thigh between her own for longer than she realized. She loses her breath so fast, so close, the raw friction and pressure feeling somehow even better than she remembered.

“God, you’re so close baby,” Alexis breathes, hand unyielding on Stevie’s lower back, moving with her. “I want you to come, I want you to, I want you to.”

Stevie gasps and smiles at the same time, a ridiculous feeling. She’d always loved the Alexis couldn’t help talking when she was trying to get Stevie off, words spilling out seemingly on instinct, without a second thought. “I want to,” she replies, words breaking, hearing her want in her own voice.

Alexis nods, eyes wide. “Come for me, Stevie, fuck,” and Stevie _does_ , moves her way through it, desperate and blurry and perfect.

And then she collapses, fully on top of Alexis, their breathing heavy and close and spent. Eventually they untangle themselves and Stevie darts to the bathroom for a washcloth, cleaning them up gently but efficiently. After, she pulls down the sheet and ushers Alexis into it with gentle movements and soft laughter at Alexis’s pouty protests.

She pulls the duvet up around them and settles in, ready to fall, but before she can Alexis moves, snuggles into her as close as she can. Cuddling was never really something they did before, and it takes a few adjustments, but soon the even rise and fall of Alexis’s breathing lulls her into sleep.

//

It doesn’t last long. They’d passed out early and Stevie starts awake at 3 AM, unable to sleep.

She doesn’t mind.

Alexis is on her stomach, arms curled underneath her, duvet around her waist. She looks so beautiful like this, in the soft darkness: hair a mess, makeup thoroughly ruined by sleep and sex, face soft and peaceful. Stevie reaches out slowly, traces down the line of her spine with one light finger, marvels that tonight actually happened. She loses track of time.

Eventually Alexis’s eyes open, blank for a second before she realizes Stevie is actually watching her sleep, and then her nose crinkles, revealing a goofy, unguarded grin.

“Gross,” she says, and Stevie snorts, laughs, which gets Alexis laughing too.

They talk, on and off. They fall quiet between topics, quietly spelling out the hard stuff and the things they’d left unsaid. With every revelation and confession, Stevie feels like a weight is being lifted off her chest. It gives her faith in this.

“What does New York mean for us?” Stevie finally whispers, trying to keep her voice steady in the dark. God, her timing has always been terrible, and this is no exception. “I can’t—we can’t do this if you’re going to be a 26 hour drive away, or whatever.”

Alexis sits up on her elbows, and for some reason she looks excited. It calms Stevie just to be near that, like it’s infectious. She can feel her body relaxing: muscles loosening, jaw unclenching.

“Okay, I’ve thought about this,” Alexis says. “We can totally do like, a year of long distance. And _then_ , eventually, Dad is gonna need a point person in New York.”

She beams like this is the answer, and Stevie smiles even as she furrows her brow. “And you think… that could be me?”

Alexis rolls her eyes. “Um, duh!” Her goofy grin transforms into something softer, more intimate. “You know you don’t belong here forever, Stevie Budd. You’re too… sharp. Bright. To let this place make you disappear.”

Stevie swallows past the lump in her throat. She can’t handle the way Alexis sees straight through her when it’s taken Stevie months— _years_ —to admit how much she wanted that. She’d overheard Alexis at the bachelor party, talking about how she felt like a plant that outgrew the pot it lived in, and felt a physical ache inside her at the words. Double, even: half for herself and how much she wanted that too, balanced with the ache of wanting Alexis, fuck the rest.

“We could get you a cute little place in Astoria to start… that neighborhood is very your vibe, Stevie. It’s a little far from where I’ll be, to start, but hopefully by then I’ll have been promoted at Interflix and I can just Uber there.” She reaches toward the floor and fishes her phone out of the pocket of her shorts, pulling up an app and typing, clearly calling up places in hopes of persuading Stevie. As if she needed convincing.

She’s so fucking gorgeous like this. Her face is lit up by the blue of her screen, and Stevie can see the curve of her back more clearly now, her hair messy and tangled from being knotted in Stevie’s fingers. The flush on her cheeks, the arc of her neck. Stevie wants so badly to reach out and touch her and then remembers she can, presses herself close and drops a kiss to Alexis’s shoulder.

“I think I’d like that,” she says, soft. She’s not sure, but she thinks she can feel Alexis smile as she snuggles in against her, melting into the warmth of her skin. Alexis drops a kiss to the top of her head in response and draws an arm around her waist, keeping her close.

Stevie could stay here forever, she thinks.

But they won’t. And somehow, that’s even more exciting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/wardowedidit) for show ending related breakdowns (and normal breakdowns).


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